Chapter 237: 237. Regret
"Mia, are you still not going to eat anything?" Verena asked, her voice quiet but carrying a firm edge of concern as she looked at her sulking friend.
Mia sat in the corner, coiled into herself, hugging her legs so tightly it was as though she wanted to vanish inside them. Her forehead was buried against her knees, hair cascading down like a curtain, shielding her face from the world.
There wasn’t the faintest flinch, not even the barest twitch of acknowledgment. Mia remained unmoving, wrapped in the cocoon of misery she had built around herself.
Verena sighed, long and weary, before lowering herself beside her. The ground was cold and rough beneath her, but she ignored it. Her gaze lingered on Mia’s frail form, the outline of her shoulders trembling ever so slightly with each shallow breath.
It had been days since Mia had eaten properly, days of silence, of refusing to speak, of drifting deeper into a pit Verena had no idea how to pull her from. All of it had begun after the news arrived—of Cassius’s... death.
Since that day, Mia had withered. She had stopped eating, stopped training, stopped speaking. She had locked herself away in silence, retreating from everyone, as if the very act of existing had become too painful.
Verena, who had watched her struggle, who had watched her fall apart, could only feel her chest twist with guilt. She had thought she understood the relationship between those two siblings, but clearly... she had been wrong.
For the longest time, Verena had believed Cassius to be nothing more than a spoiled young master from a noble family. A parasite clinging to privilege. A domineering brother who took out his frustrations on Mia, who looked nothing like him, as though their blood was a lie.
The memory resurfaced—his voice raised, sharp and harsh, shouting at Mia. Threatening her. Using their bond as siblings to force her into obedience. Verena had been there, she had heard it with her own ears. He had stopped Mia from training that day, forbidding her, and Verena had drawn her own conclusions.
Jealousy.
That was the answer she had settled on. Jealous of Mia’s immense potential, envious that she was destined for greatness while he was condemned to mediocrity. To her, that was the only logical explanation.
And so, she had stepped between them. She had spoken against him, mocked him, undermined his words at every turn. She had seen herself as Mia’s shield from a cruel brother, and never once had she approved of his methods, his way of living, his very presence.
But now...
Now she saw the truth reflected in Mia’s hollow eyes, in her gaunt cheeks, in the way her lips trembled but refused to speak. If Cassius truly had been a monster, if he truly had been poison to her life, then shouldn’t Mia be relieved? Shouldn’t she feel liberated? But she wasn’t. She was broken. More broken than Verena had ever imagined she could be.
Mia wasn’t rejoicing. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t even breathing properly. She looked like a fragile candle guttering in the wind, her flame dimming with each passing day.
Her skin had turned ghostly pale, her body frail and brittle, her strength drained as though her very soul had fled alongside her brother’s. She had stopped caring for herself entirely.
Verena clenched her fists in her lap. ’I was wrong. I had judged Cassius far too harshly. I only saw fragments, moments torn out of context, and from those I painted the whole picture. I condemned him without truly knowing him.
Just because the world is filled with rotten men doesn’t mean every man is rotten. Just because the majority are selfish doesn’t mean all of humanity is doomed to cruelty. I... I had forgotten something so simple, so obvious. And now... it might already be too late to change how I thought of him.’
Her chest tightened, and she let out another long sigh, this one heavier than the last, pulling the air from her lungs like the dragging weight of regret.
Her gaze drifted away from Mia and toward the horizon, where the dying sun bled into the sky, painting it in shades of crimson and gold.
The land stretched out endlessly, the parched earth cracked and brittle, and far in the distance the sky and ground kissed in a haze of dust and heat.
And above that dried, lifeless earth, a battle raged.
The tremors reached them even here, faint vibrations crawling beneath their feet. A monstrous Deathworm surged in and out of the ground, its colossal body stretching nearly thirty feet in length, dwarfing the figures who fought it.
Its maw gaped open like a circular abyss, lined with countless razored teeth glistening with venomous saliva that hissed when it struck the cracked ground.
Its cylindrical body, coated in the sandy hues of the desert, blended seamlessly with the earth, as if the land itself had birthed it from stone and sand. A predator of nightmares. A ★★★★★★ beast, a foe of endurance, power, and malice.
Yet still, figures stood against it.
Zyon, Art, Amelia, Freya, Lilith—they fought desperately, together, though only Zyon and Art truly possessed the raw stats required to match such a monstrosity.
The others were slower, weaker, their blows little more than scratches compared to the destructive power needed, but still they fought, still they gave what aid they could. Their shouts echoed across the barren expanse, carried on the hot winds.
BAM—
The Deathworm recoiled violently, its enormous body thrashing as one of its abyssal eyes burst under the force of a brutal strike.
Zyon’s fist had connected cleanly, knuckles cracking against flesh tougher than stone, forcing the beast’s head to lurch back with a roar that shook the air.
Rotten, foul-smelling blood gushed forth in a torrent, thick and brown, spattering across Zyon’s body and clothes until he reeked of decay and poison. The stench was suffocating, burning the nose, clinging to skin and fabric like tar.
And yet... he didn’t flinch. His eyes remained locked on the monster, sharp and unyielding. He stared into the Deathworm’s writhing body, as though daring it to rise again.
The Deathworm let out a roar that rattled the bones, a sound so raw and guttural it seemed to squeeze the heart inside everyone’s chest.
The air itself shivered as its cry echoed, a thunderous note of frenzy and despair.
Then, without hesitation, it lunged for Zyon. Its massive body zipped through the air like a thunderbolt, scales glinting with sickly light as it surged forward. The sheer momentum made the ground quake, its maw splitting open wide enough to swallow him whole.
But the impact never came.
Chains erupted. They wrapped, coiled, and slammed the beast against the earth with a force that cracked stone. The monster writhed furiously, its colossal form twisting and thrashing, screeching in fury. Its teeth scraped the soil as it tried to burrow, but every desperate wriggle only pulled the shackles tighter, hastening its own demise.
Art stood silently at the center of the storm, his hand lifted in a calm gesture, fingers flexing in subtle control.
Then, he tilted his head, eyes flicking toward Freya and Lilith. A silent command.
Both women stepped forward, their faces grim, no words wasted.
Freya extended her hand, her eyes dimming. Her ability—[Stillness]. The Deathworm spasmed as invisible frost seemed to seep into its very being.
Its body convulsed, organs slowing, its nervous system dulled until its rage sputtered out like dying embers. A slow suffocation, inevitable and inescapable.
But Lilith had no patience for slowness.
Her fingers snapped together, a fiery glyph sparking to life in her palm. A lance of molten flame took form, its edges sharp enough to scream through the air as it condensed to a deadly point. Without hesitation, she thrust forward.
The flaming spear tore through the Deathworm’s eye socket, sizzling through flesh, before erupting deep inside its skull. A violent screech echoed once more, then cut abruptly short as the firestorm burned its brain into ash.
The monster’s body went limp. Chains clattered uselessly around the corpse, vanishing into the ether as Art released his hold. The battlefield grew quiet, except for the faint crackling of Lilith’s dissipating flames.
And then—everyone felt it.
A subtle surge of warmth The sweet rush of experience points coursing into their bodies, soothing battered muscles and sharpening dulled senses. For most of them, it was a fleeting brush of strength.
But for Freya and Lilith, the ones who lagged behind the others, it was a noticeable leap. Their eyes widened slightly as the boost settled, their exhaustion tempered by the addictive rise of power.
"Alright, that’s enough for today," Zyon’s voice broke the silence, calm but edged with command. "Let’s pull back to base. Everyone needs rest."
Art nodded, brushing dust from his cloak. "Agreed. Leon’s group should be wrapping up their own session too. Still, it would be better if we check on them before we call it a day."
Zyon hummed in thought before giving a sharp nod. "Yeah. Let’s meet with them first—see if they need backup."
"Fine," Art replied, then glanced toward the ladies. "And what about you? Heading back now, or tagging along?"
Lilith groaned dramatically, throwing her arms up before slumping into a hunch. "Ughh... forget it! I’m not doing shit anymore. I’m going back and sleeping like a goddamn log. What about you girls?"
Amelia pressed her lips together in a wry smile, shaking her head gently. "I’ll help them. We can rest through the night. For now, it’s better to stretch our legs a little more, no?"
Lilith shot her a betrayed look, eyes narrowing like she’d just been stabbed in the back. She turned her gaze to Freya—surely at least she’d side with her. But Freya’s soft expression and gentle nod dashed even that hope.
"I’ll follow Amelia," Freya said softly. "But if you’re too tired, Lilith, don’t force yourself. You can head back alone. No one will judge."
Lilith leaned back, glaring with mock offense. "Tch. ’No one will judge’—really? That’s just a fancy way of calling me lazy. A subtle jab wrapped in pretty words."
Freya flinched, furiously shaking her head, her voice rising in panic. "No, no! That’s not what I meant! Why are you like this? Your brain invents insults out of thin air! I wasn’t judging you!"
Lilith let out a long sigh, head drooping like a scolded cat. "Fine, fine. I’ll tag along. Better to suffer with all of you than rot in silence with Verena and Mia."
The moment those two names left her lips, the atmosphere shifted. A weight settled over the group, dragging everyone’s mood down into the dirt. The air turned cold, sour.
Especially because of Verena.
On the very first day, she had clashed with all of them. Souring their mood from the very first day. And yet... the worst part was that her reasoning hadn’t been wrong.
They’d just survived a near-death battle against a monstrous horde, their bodies and minds still battered. Then, without respite, they were thrown into "special training." A death sentence dressed up in a gilded name. Verena had simply said what everyone else refused to.
Still, truth didn’t make her easier to stomach.